SPN100 CHALLENGE: A NORMAL LIFE
by SupernaturallyEgocentric
Summary: Sam and Dean in little bits of normal life. Not curtain fics, still bunker-bound, but, you know, normal stuff. Two challenge words in a 100 word drabble! Chapter 9. The challenge words are gas and hip.
1. Chapter 1

Dean came into Sam's room. Flopping down onto the bed beside his brother, he took a handful of popcorn from the bowl on Sam's stomach. "Whatcha watchin'?"

"Moonstruck," Sam replied, not looking away from the television.

Dean watched. The characters onscreen were an older man and woman, talking about the moon or something. "Looks boring."

"Sometimes I like to watch movies about people with regular lives," Sam said quietly. " _Normal_ lives."

"Huh."

Onscreen the man was crooning lovingly to his laughing wife. " _You with the stars in her eyes!"_

"Plus, it's got Cher."

Dean took another handful of popcorn. "Awesome."


	2. Beach Blanket Winchester!

Sam and Dean slid down the sand dune, easily carrying the beer-heavy green cooler between them.

Choosing a spot on the crowded beach not too far from the water, they lowered the cooler to the sand and spread out their blanket.

Then, after a narrow-eyed stare at the people around them, both stripped down to ragged cut-offs and bare feet.

Sam squinted up at the scorching sun. "Did you remember to bring the suntan lotion?"

"'Course I did." Dean pulled the bottle out of the cooler and grinned. " _Samuel_."

Sam rolled his eyes but didn't rise to the bait. "Looks almost empty," he said instead.

"Eh." Dean shrugged. "There's enough for today." He shook the bottle furiously and a huge blob spurted out onto the sand.

"Nice," Sam said, looking down at oily mess.

Dean looked at the clearly empty bottle, then at the sun above and sighed.

"Um – guys?"

They turned to the woman on the blanket next to them. She was holding up a bottle of lotion. "Here."

The boys exchanged a glance, then looked back at her. Mid-forties, maybe. Blond ponytail. Direct eyes and kind face, a good smile. Probably not dangerous. Probably.

Dean took the bottle, giving the woman a smile. "Thanks."

She drew in a quick breath at the smile, then rallied and smiled back. "No problem."

The boys quickly slathered the lotion over their muscled torsos, over powerful arms, down strong legs. They each gave the other's back a once over, then Sam handed the bottle back to their neighbor, who'd been watching the show with slightly glazed eyes.

"Thanks." Sam smiled, dimples popping.

She nodded, speechless.

The Winchesters looked out at the ocean, then back at each other with grins of excited anticipation.

"Sammy . . ."

"Yeah, Dean?"

"TIME TO FREAKIN' FROLIC!"

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For those who didn't see it, Jensen was teasing Jared about the infamous Rio beach photos and Jared gave him a puppy dog face and said, very pitifully, "I just wanted to frolic!" So this is my tribute to those photos. However, the frolic line at the end couldn't be given by anyone but Dean!


	3. BLESS YOU

Dean sneezed wetly and pulled another tissue out of the near-empty box. He blew his nose, then dropped the soggy tissue into the trash can next to the couch.

"This sucks," he said moodily. " _Sucks_."

Sam looked up from his laptop. "What?"

Dean started to answer, then, grumbling, pulled out another tissue and blew so hard he made himself dizzy. "Everything," he finally croaked.

"Oh." Sam looked back down at his laptop, gritting his teeth.

"It's your fault." Dean collapsed back onto his pillow. "All your fault."

"I told you not to drink my beer," Sam said, trying to stay calm. "I _told_ you I thought I was getting a cold. So what did you do? _You drank it_. How is that my fault?"

"I was drunk!" Dean whined. "You should have stopped me!"

Sam sighed. "Yeah, like I could."

The study was quiet for a few precious minutes, but for the clicking of the laptop's keys.

"You didn't even get all the way sick," Dean said resentfully.

Sam shut the laptop with a sharp click and rubbed at the ache forming at his temples. "Dean, you spent _forty years_ in _Hell_. How can you be this whiny about a damned _cold_?"

Dean scowled and turned his face away. "I wish Cas were here."

Wish freaking granted.

The angel appeared with a sudden rush of wings. "Dean, you called –" He frowned and started toward the couch at the sight of his friend's damp, pallid face. _"What's wrong?"_

"Cas!" Dean's voice was weak with relief. "Dude! Stupid Sam gave me his cold!"

Cas stopped. His lips turned down. His shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry, Dean. I can't help you."

"What?" Dean was stricken. "Why _not_?"

"Angels can do many things," Cas said regretfully. "But even we can't cure the common cold."


	4. ANNIE HALL - REDUX

Dean shrieked and sent his attacker flying across the room.

"Dean!" Sam ran across the kitchen and hovered over the struggling crustacean. "I think you hurt its claw!"

"Seriously?" Dean glared at him, nursing his bleeding finger. "We're just about to stick the little bastard into a pot of boiling water! You don't think _that's_ gonna hurt?"

Sam froze. He looked down at the lobster trying to burrow its way underneath the refrigerator, then back up at his brother, looking stricken.

"Crap." Dean sighed, then pulled out his car keys. "Yeah, don't worry, Sammy. We'll just go out for pizza."


	5. FIRST, AND LAST, LOVE

Running over a flock of rabid zombies does _not_ a happy car make.

After staring at her for a good five minutes with tight lips and a weeping heart, Dean started by running a gentle hose over his girl to remove the worst of the mud, gore and grime. He paid special attention to her delicate undercarriage, where a number of bloody bits and pieces stubbornly clung.

That done, he soaped her up until he couldn't see an inch of black, just an even coating of soap suds, pristine pearls dripping down onto the floor of the Letters garage.

Next a soft shower gliding over soft curves and panels until the Impala shone as bright as a newly born star.

And at the end? Soft buttery wax, and a soft velvet cloth he'd used on his love for as long as he could remember.

Eyes hooded with concentration, he ran it over her bulk again and again - gentle and caressing, firm and masterful, until his arms ached with exertion and her frame thrummed with satisfaction.

Done at last, both exhausted and ready for sleep, he leaned down and laid a gentle kiss on his baby's hood.

"I got you, sweetheart."


	6. JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE PARANOID

The air was thick and moist in the Stuffed-Full-of-What-the-Hell Letters basement. Sam felt like he was breathing soup. Scowling, he wiped the sweat from his forehead for what felt like the millionth time since he and Dean had started the inventory. "Whose stupid idea was this, anyway?"

"Yours." Dean's hands lingered on the stack of old _Busty Asian Beauties_ mags he'd unearthed, then he put them to the side and turned back to the wooden box from which the _Beauties_ had emerged.

"Whoa." He lifted out a smoky-gray, perfectly cylindrical glass ball. "Check it out."

Sam scribbled down a short description of the find. "Any markings?"

Dean shook his head. He started to say something, then stopped, smiling.

"What?"

"Ah, nothin'." Dean carefully placed the ball onto a nearby table. "It just kinda reminds me of those crystal balls from the hobbit movies. You know, the ones Sauron used to spy on people."

Sam stared at the objection in question for one hot minute. Then, abandoning the clipboard, he crossed to the table, stripped off his flannel shirt and dropped it over the glass ball, covering it completely.

At Dean's inquiring look, Sam shrugged, a little embarrassed. "Why take chances?"


	7. Chapter 7

Dean glimpsed a movement out of the corner of his eye. Spinning around, he saw their little escapee dart at mach speed into the cupboard under the sink.

Grumbling with irritation, he stalked over and jerked open the cupboard door, then cursed and fell on his butt when the creature darted out between his legs.

Hearing his brother's shout, Sam skidded into the kitchen and scooped the smudge of trembling calico into his arms. Gently cradling the wide-eyed little fur ball against his chest, he gave his brother a hand up.

"It's okay, Dean. You're just not a cat person."

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	8. ALL HAIL THE BIRTHDAY BOY!

"Surprise!"

Sam jerked up in bed, pistol in his hand before his eyes even opened. The first thing he saw was Dean with a happy grin on his face and an armful of colorful Mylar balloons.

Groaning, Sam stowed his gun and fell back onto his pillow.

"Happy Birthday!" Dean whooped. He released the balloons and they floated up to bump against the ceiling.

Sam pulled the pillow over his face. "Go away."

"No can do, Birthday Boy!" Dean said cheerfully. "Up and at 'em! We got yummy pancakes and bacon, followed by awesome presents. Then we're gonna go see that piece of crap French film you've been drooling over and after that we're off to the nearest bar. We're gonna eat a lot, drink a fuckton and party all night long!"

A muffled groan came from under the pillow. Something about _job_ and _research_.

"Oh, Sammy, _Sammy_." Dean shook his head mournfully. "You have _got_ to get your priorities straight." His tone turned businesslike. "Now haul your ass out of bed. You're gonna have a lip-lock on a pretty woman before the clock strikes midnight or my name's not Dean Winchester."

He paused and grinned wickedly. "And it is."

SUPNSUPNSUPNSUPN

Yes, I know, Jensen's b-day was this week, not Jared's, but this just kind of happened.


	9. ROAD TRIP

Dean leaned his hip against Baby, eyes on the door to the gas station.

Sam was inside, stocking up on road food. Beef jerky and peanut M&M's. Chips and a couple of sandwiches. Water. A bottle of aspirin for Dean's aching head.

And, Sam being Sam, there'd be some healthy crap as well.

Soon enough, the younger Winchester was striding out to the Impala, arms full. Approaching Dean, he reached into one of the plastic bags and pulled out a magazine. There was a picture of a comely Asian woman on the cover.

Dean smiled. "My head's feeling better already."


End file.
